


The Springs of Tel Varo

by PudgeParfait



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: F/M, Feeding Kink, Female Feeder/Male Feedee, Hot Springs, I read way too much lore for this, Post-Morrowind, Pre-Oblivion Crisis, Stuffing, Teasing, Vvardenfell (Elder Scrolls), Weight Gain, feederism, wg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:36:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25169311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PudgeParfait/pseuds/PudgeParfait
Summary: Archmagister Varo takes a dip in her private hot springs.Tagged for violence for a brief mention of gore, edited for errors and updated for some stylistic/word choice changes.
Relationships: Original Dunmer Character(s)/Original Imperial Character(s) (Elder Scrolls)
Kudos: 14





	The Springs of Tel Varo

“Gaius, where are the candles?”

Gaius looked up from the book in his hands, his eyes then wandering about aimlessly for an answer. “Uh, the lit ones or the unlit ones?” he asked, his voice tinged with a mild hint of worry. She always worried him - every time she'd leave the Tel, no matter the reason, he'd wait in the upper halls anxiously, like an overly attached pet vvardvark devoid of object permanence.

“The unlit ones.”

He paused for a moment, quickly closing the book and setting it down on the nearby table. “They should be in the lower halls, I think...”

“Then would you please be a dear and fetch them for me?”

"Of course, ma'am,” Gaius agreed, getting up from his seat before scurrying himself over to the door on the other side of the room. Even with his plump physique, he often surprised Hlavora with his swiftness. A fortification spell, perhaps?

“And remember to use your Slowfall spell! Don’t injure yourself like the last time!” Hlavora called to him, only for a yelp to echo from afar. He injured himself. Again. She sighed, slowly shaking her head from side to side. Though Gaius had long excelled in the art of Conjuration, Hlavora made a mental note to further pursue towards lessons in Alteration.

Nonetheless, while her Spellwright sought candles, she sought reading material. Hlavora channeled her magicka surrounding herself to ascend through Tel Varo’s upper halls to her library, though the term could be used loosely - her library consisted of three shelves, filled sparsely with books, and a wooden chair and table set. One lone candle sat atop it, softly flickering beside a wrapped package and a note, left untouched.

With a gentle touch the tips of her fingers traced the bindings of each book, curious to find what literature she felt suited the mood. With recent times she frequented the fictional _Ancient Tales of the Dwemer_ , though her collection had several missing entries. Perhaps a revisit to _Horror at Castle Xyr_ ? Or the words of Tavi Dromio - the pages of _Hallgerd’s Tale_ had scuffed and torn around the edges from the amount of times she reread it. Her hand then stopped, hovering over the well-worn binding of the first chapter of _A Dance in Fire_. The burn marks from years past still present its leather.

As she pulled some of the novels off of their shelves, a memory then clicked. The package was brought to her just that morning by a courier as she was indulging in her morning read. Before she could even find out where the package came from she was drowning in interruptions - between the innkeeper’s son paralyzing himself while playing with spell scrolls left unattended and the kwama egg mines to the south falling ill to droops, the package was unfortunately left alone for most of the day.

When she unfurled the note, she was met with a message penned by her former patron:

> To the esteemed Archmagister Hlavora Varo,
> 
> I must extend my thanks for the artifact you uncovered in your expedition of the Dwemer citadel of Alftzulft-Bel, and I am relieved that you’ve returned safely. In this message I’ve included a ‘welcome home’ gift of sorts. As for the Dwemer artifact you have brought back from the citadel, I have concluded two theories as to what it may be. 
> 
> The first theory is a covering for a light mechanism containing several layers of focusing lenses. These lenses may be calendrical; assuming this theory is correct, we could further theorize that it was used by the Dwemer to keep track of dates, or it could trigger a much larger device within Alftzulft-Bel depending on a specific date and time. Your notes specified the discovery of a cylindrical chamber containing a Dwemer contraption in the center of the room. Based on a previous expedition conducted by Rolard Nordssen in the Dwemer ruins of Enmahnch along the border of western Skyrim and northeastern High Rock, this contraption may be an Oculory, an elaborate Dwemer device created to conceal treasure. 
> 
> My second theory pertaining to the artifact is that it is a helmet of sorts. The energy held within the object is not unlike equipment enchanted with shielding enchantments. Considering the presence of only one during your expedition, perhaps the artifact may have been used by the Dwemer for conducting experiments, or traversing adverse conditions. With your notes on the Halls of Flames, Halls of Frost, and Halls of Thunder, the artifact may have been utilized in these halls as part of a ritual or ceremony involving these halls.
> 
> While I wish to continue my research with the artifact, said research on one as peculiar as this is difficult without being within the inner chambers of Alfzulft-Bel itself, and my days have been dedicated between my own studies and with the needs of Vos. As per your request, I've sent the artifact and our notes to Divayth Fyr. His knowledge on the Dwemer will provide a more conclusive analysis.
> 
> Once the artifact is in your possession, I would advise that you consider a second expedition to Alftzulft-Bel, and continue studying the artifact’s relations to the citadel. I am looking forward to your further progress in this project of yours.
> 
> From your former patron and honored ally, Master Aryon

Hlavora pursed her lips. Her desire for knowledge clashed with the symphony of wet bones and wet flesh against the dry, heavy Dwemer metal that still lingered, a memory she tried her damnedest to cleanse, yet still remained unclean. Though all knowledge has a price, and the wealth of knowledge that she and her expedition team discovered in the Dwemer citadel of Alfzulft-Bel - the capital that many scholars believed didn’t even exist - could potentially be of astronomical proportions, being the sole survivor of the expedition wasn’t what she bargained for. It was better them than her, she supposed, yet guilt still clung to her heart with a death grip.

That was not to say Hlavora didn’t accept the guidance from her fellow Telvanni mage-lord, however. She held the message in one hand, the other’s thumb and index finger stretched across her bottom lip. Even if he wasn’t present at the citadel, they were sound propositions. Too sound. Too predictable. It would be foolish to believe that the impregnable ancient Dwemer fortress could be unlocked by way of inference - such foolishness had cost her those four lives. Her thoughts mused the idea of dragging her past-patron and his past-patron with her into those cold, dead halls as they once had many eras ago, allowing them to witness the monstrosities that lurked beyond its walls. Perhaps then she’d bring more mercenaries that time.

As she mulled over the message, Gaius returned with a resounding pant, Hlavora haphazardly folding the message up lest the Spellwright become curious. "Archmagister Varo," he said breathlessly with a smile, in an awkward-yet-proud smile that was particularly him. Underneath his right arm sat a bundle of red candlesticks within a basket. He handed the basket to her before wiping the sweat off of his warm face with his other hand. "I've retrieved some candles for you, as requested.”

“I imagine there weren’t any candles in the storage room, what with you being drenched in all that sweat.”

Gaius laughed. “Yes, there wasn’t. I used a recall spell to go to the artisan’s hall in Kragenmoor to get some. What I didn’t recall was how difficult weaving through crowds there was. That still didn’t stop me from seeking out a particular merchant there. And to my luck, he was there.”

“He was?”

“He was. Wax-Weaver’s his name, I think. He makes the greatest candles I’ve ever had the pleasure of witnessing, only matched by the old Nordic chandlers I saw in a trader’s festival in Bruma. I couldn’t not seek them out. Here, smell these,” he explained. In his enthusiasm, he quickly grabbed one of the candlesticks from the basket and held it up. The candles radiated a faint floral aroma that hinted aquatic undertones. 

Hlavora took the candlestick, turning her hand about as she held it. The candles were simple both in shape and color, measuring about as long as the length between her forearm and wrist. “Did the artisan who sold you these candles tell you what they used for the scent? It’s pleasant, but I’m afraid I don’t recognize it.”

“No, but I recognized it the moment I laid eyes on them. The scent’s made up of the nectar of water hyacinths from the Gold Coast, with notes of peony extract. It’s a popular mixture used for summer perfume frequented by nobility in Cyrodiil,” Gaius explained.

"You have a rather intimate knowledge of perfumes, plucking such a breadth of ingredients from just its scent."

“Before I came to Vvardenfell, I was a clerk for a wealthy perfumer. Nearly half of all of our ledgers consisted of orders with one scent - Cecia’s Gold Coast #445 - that used that combination. He'd have me run around Cyrodiil draining almost every single alchemical shop in the province for ingredients.”

Hlavora made a mental note to include this into her alchemical teachings. Aromatherapy could make for a unique sect of alchemy. “I must ask, dear Spellwright, why you felt the need to travel across the province for candles when Suran and Vivec had plenty of candlemakers, right on our doorstep?”

“You’ve had a troubled look on your face the entire day. I don’t know what it was about, but I couldn’t help but feel bad. It’s the least I could do.”

"Hm,” her eyes wandered for a moment before returning to Gaius’s gaze. He didn’t need to know. “Thank you. If you need me, I’ll be in the springs," she took the basket from him and placed it on the nearby chair. Perhaps it was for the best she eased her troubled mind. “Get yourself some rest, Gaius. In a week’s time, we will depart to Ebonheart soon to meet with the Grand Council.”

The warmth in Gaius’s smile fades upon those final words. “I don’t look forward to it.”

“Neither do I, Spellwright.”

Gaius then departed from the library, the door gently closed shut. Opening the message once more, she then gave it a more proper fold and set it aside, carefully unraveling the strings that held the aforementioned ‘welcome home’ gift Master Aryon had sent together. Within the package sat seven books, stacked on top of one another: _Palla, Volume 1_ and _2_ ; _2920, Sun’s Dawn_ ; and _Beggar, Thief, Warrior_ and _King_ . Hlavora pulled the latter five books from underneath the former two, shifting her library around until she found suitable places for them. From the middle section of the leftmost shelf she pulled _Hallgerd's Tale_ , placing it on top of the remaining books. Pushing the candlesticks to one side, she barely fitted the books into the basket. 

Channeling her magicka beneath her, Hlavora levitated down the fungal halls of Tel Varo. As she made her descent, the cold air slowly climbed into an intense warmth. The levitation spell then dissipated, and her feet were to the ground once more. Loosening her robes, she then pulled a small key from between her bust and unlocked the door before her. As she pushed the door, a rush of warmth grazed against her skin. Before her lay a small inlet that led to the large pools of water. A thick, sweltering haze radiating throughout the room that, if not for the dim magicka swelling within the crystals that imbued Tel Varo’s structure, would be engulfed in pitch black darkness. 

Hlavora pulled the books from the basket and placed them on a nearby table, leaving only the candles. She then fortified her feet with a water-walking spell, placing a single candle on a candle tray on said table and lighting it with magic. One by one, Hlavora followed the shallow trail between the pools of water, placing and lighting the candles as she went. Each step she made echoed through the spring. When she returned to the inlet, several dozen flickering lights reflected off against the gentle waters. 

Unfastening the belt of her robes and setting them on the back of the nearby chair, the Archmagister's plump body fell victim to gravity, her ample flesh now free to breathe. Slipping her arms out of the sleeves, Hlavora’s hands ran over the embroidery of her silk robes, taking in the intricate hand-sewn details and the glimmer of enchantments for a brief moment before placing them beside the belt. She then slipped her extravagant gold shoes off, picking them up from the cobble floor to place beside her robes. Respite, for once.

Now in the nude, Hlavora took a slow, deep breath before stretching her arms out. Taking _Hallgerd's Tale_ with her, she then approached the nearest pool, bending down to her knees and dipping her free hand in the water. Deeming it suitable, she then dipped each foot in before lowering her entire lower half into the hot spring, the surface of the water tracing below her breasts. The water's heat radiating against her, she lied back and stretched her legs out, groaning as pressure released from her lower joints. She then opened the book and began reading. The other Telvanni mage-lords could merely _wish_ they had such a luxury in the comfort and privacy of their own Tel. From their growing neurotic tendencies in the passing weeks, some of them desperately needed it.

Still, the hot water, the constant low hum of magic, and the musings of Hallgerd and his Dremora companions could not completely quell her troubles. She was to meet with the Grand Council of Vvardenfell in Ebonheart soon - her first political assembly she's dealt with since her expulsion from the Mages' Guild almost two decades ago, if that could even count. She barely understood the politics of inside her House, let alone of the entirety of Vvardenfell. No amount of noble etiquette and bluffing could aid her.

As she turned a page, attempting to drown out her foreboding in the colorful image of Hlaalu Pasoroth making love to his wife in a full suit of armor, a sudden, light knock came from the door.

“Archmagister Varo, is it okay for me to come in?” Gaius asks beyond the door. “I have something for you.”

Hlavora sat herself up. “Something? What's this something about?”

“I, uh… I'd like to keep it a surprise, ma’am.”

Though curious, her eyes remained drawn to the fine print of the book she held. “Fine, come. But please, make it brief.”

Slowly, Gaius meekly entered the room, closing the door with his elbow. In his hands he held an ornate tray filled from end to end with plates of various lovingly crafted Cyrodiilic sweets and pastries, with a kettle, teapot, and matching set of cups to the side. His eyes trailed about the barren top half of his patron, his cheeks a pale blush. Whatever had flown through his mind had certainly done a number to him.

“Dear Spellwright, is fattening up your patron with all of your gratuitous pleasantries an Imperial tradition among nobles I'm not aware of?” Hlavora sat her free hand underneath her chin. "At this rate you'd have to roll me out of this damned hot spring."

“Goodness, Archmagister, no!” Gaius’s squealed, his entire face flushed into a rosy red. His gaze wandered aimlessly away from her as he chewed on his lip. “I, uh… I’ve been meaning to apologize for causing such a mess in your alchemical lab last week. I knew that your equipment was priceless grandmaster equipment that is nigh difficult to replace, and yet despite this I refused to heed your warning, and I destroyed them. I want to repay you for the damage I’ve done, and I made this spread as a gift of sincerity. I figured since you were trying to relax, it would be an opportune time to bring these to you.”

This again. Hlavora couldn’t decipher whether or not it was a plea to let him run rampant in her alchemical labs unsupervised again or if it was another one of his roundabout Archmagister-Varo-please-make-passionate-love-to-me affairs of his. Or if it were both. “I already said you were pardoned for that,” she put bluntly.

“Oh.” Gaius’s expression loosened to an awkward stare. “Am I still banned from the alchemical lab after studying hours?”

It _was_ a plea. “Until further notice, yes. I will tell you when I lift that ban," Hlavora remained unmoved. She then closed the book, placing it away from the water, then leaned back once more, groaning more of her joints popped. “Are you still going to share these gifts? And come, join me in the springs. This water’s to die for.”

The Imperial rubbed the back of his neck. “I, er… uh… I'd love to, but I believe I’m intruding on your privacy, no? Should I leave the tray here or in the hall above?"

Hlavora waved a hand. “Oh no, it’s not a problem at all. And Gaius, are there not public baths in the Imperial City? I recall that being a favorite among nobles."

Gaius shook his head. "No. After the Third Era began, most of the wealthy had their own private bathing rooms anyway. The Crown Prince issued remodels for the public bathhouses, converting them into gardens to save water before I ever visited the Imperial City."

Hlavora grunted a short hum. “I imagine it wouldn't be far-fetched to say you’re hot and bothered that I’m nude.”

"...yes," Gaius admitted. "And that water looks scalding hot. I'm not a Dunmer, you know I'd literally _die_ in those waters."

"Oh, you Cyrodiils…" Hlavora rubbed her fingers against her temples. "The sight of my barren breast isn’t going to fry your eyes out of their very sockets, you know. And you can use your spells to help with the water’s temperature. Otherwise," the Archmagister shifted herself up and tapped the nearby stone floor with her hand. "You may leave your pleasantries here. There is no wrong in that choice."

“N-No, ma’am, quite the opposite, you’re a pleasant sight, it’s just that I... ah…” Gaius gulped, his eyes trailing as much away from her as possible, sweat dripping from his brow. He then suddenly stopped, his eyes still looking away. "Wait, what do you mean 'use your spells'? Like a fire-shielding spell?"

"That's one way of approaching it. Not the way I'd go about it, but it is one solution."

"How would you go about it, anyway?"

Hlavora picked up the nearby kettle, the water within it sloshing about. “I could tell you, if you don’t mind a brief demonstration.”

“I... wouldn’t mind a demonstration. Maybe it’ll ease myself for a moment.”

"Very well. Recall your teachings of Destruction magic. Although primarily used for combat, the Destruction school of magic is applicable in more than just inflicting damage upon others. What are some of these areas?"

"Cooking for certain. I also know that the famous Dagi-Raht mage J’zarum was renowned for using acute fire spells to heat his own body during his ventures in Atmora. Besides that… I don’t know of any others.”

Hlavora nods, channeling magicka through her fingertips to the kettle. The water within began to simmer, then boil. "Well, the ones you’ve given work just fine. Destruction crosses paths with other schools of magic more often than one may believe in. Consider the times I’ve moved water using magic. What school of magic does that fall within?"

"Alteration? Since alteration is the school of modifying the states of your surroundings, like telekinesis and transmutation spells."

"That’s a good guess. However, the technique I use personally doesn’t involve Alteration spells. It’s Destruction. Can you think of why that is?”

"...I can’t, Archmagister Varo."

"There is nothing wrong in admitting you don't know something. That’s how you learn," she assured. "But it falls under the Destruction school of magic as you must channel your magicka into the creation of something in order for you to execute that spell."

"And since water isn't a solid, you must create a solid within the water, you use frost magic to 'freeze' parts of it, right?"

"Right. By creating a solid within the water by way of frost magic, you can use that solid as an anchor to move it however you please," Hlavora explained. From the kettle she poured water into a teapot, closing the lid to let the tea within it steep. Turning back around, she then hovered her hands above the water. “Pay close attention.”

She slung a frost spell to the vacant pool, then raised her hands as hundreds of shards of ice within the rising stream glimmered and shined, moved across the ceiling of the springs. When it reached the rightmost pool, behind the one Hlavora had bathed in, Hlavora released the spell, the ice water sizzling against the boiling heat. A thick cloud of steam burst from the spot.

"By the Nine… they don't teach you _this_ in the Mage's Guild." Gaius uttered as the steam dissipated. Lowering himself to that very pool, he meekly dipped his hand into the water before submerging himself. He then made his own attempt at the spell his patron made, quickly glancing back and forth between Hlavora and the pool - casting a frost spell into the vacant pool, then raising his hands to raise the water. A small stream of water barely peaked from the pool, then fell before it reached height level, putting out two nearby candles. “This is going to take some practice.”

Hlavora returned to the pot of tea, opening the lid. An herbal aroma wafted from within, accompanied with a sweet, citrus scent. “Oh, it will. In your defense, I discovered the spell myself years ago through experimentation. You _can_ move water through just Alteration spells - powerful mages can even create water from spells, though such magic has been long kept a secret for centuries now - but there is always more than one way to skin a guar,” she poured tea into two cups. Sitting the teapot down, she then handed Gaius one of the cups while keeping the other for herself. “A drink, Spellwright?”

Gaius wasted no time in drinking the tea, streaks of the liquid falling down his cheek. “Oh, how I’ve missed this...” he sighed, his tongue attempting to lick the straggling remnants of tea. “While visiting the artisan halls of Kragenmoor for your candles, I also picked up a little piece of home for me. ‘Countess of Chorrol’ tea, an herbal tea blend with orange zest and the dried leaves of Viper’s Bugloss. The story goes that the Countess of Chorrol, Arriana Valga, suffers terrible insomnia, and drinks this blend every night before going to bed to lull her to sleep. It’s a fantastic night-time tea, though when I was younger I’d drink it almost all the time.”

“So it is,” Hlavora sipped on her own cup of tea. Her tongue was met with a warm, tart taste that trailed down her throat.

“Admittedly, in my youth I’d drink so much of it that I couldn’t move, and my parents would have me taken to a healer to be dispelled more often than I’d like to admit. They could never figure out why, it would just… happen.”

“That sounds like overconsumption of the tea causes stamina depletion or burdening. When you were a child, did you ever eat anything with it?”

“Why, yes. Sweetcakes. All the time. They’re like a soft, spongy glazed sweetroll,” he picked up a piece of the cake from the platter, taking a bite out of it. “Mmph. One of these.”

“You would eat one every single time you’d have tea?”

“Oh, it's an Imperial tradition," he explained with a full mouth. "You can’t have tea without sweetcakes. Or sweetcakes without tea.” 

“So that’s why Cyrodiils are as fat as they are,” Hlavora smirked. The warmth on Gaius’s cheeks fed her temptation to tease him further. “You drink tea every time you eat sweetcakes, and you eat sweetcakes every time you drink tea. And then you wonder why your sides can never fit through door frames."

Y-Yeah,” he mumbled. His eyes had a distinct glitter to them.

"And I imagine the nobles of the Imperial City have ‘tea parties’ where they endlessly engorge themselves on such pleasantries until they couldn’t possibly eat any more, would they not?”

"No, they don't, but I… ah…" Gaius shoved the remaining bite of his sweetcake into his mouth, then cupped his hands around it. “I… I’d like that.”

“Really now? You would?” She turned herself around, kneading her hands against the Spellwright's soft shoulders. Her hands felt the heartbeat from the vein in his neck pounding vigorously. "Picture this, dear Spellwright: groups of nobles lounging about on their soft, expensive imported furniture, spending their entire day endlessly grazing on their sweetrolls and sweetcakes as the rolls on their waist grew in numbers. As their servants replenish their food and drinks, they'd caress their swollen bodies, begging for their touch."

Gaius's hands muffled a moan. Hlavora couldn't help but mused about whatever fantasies could possibly be swimming in that Imperial's head - thoughts of pristine, dignified nobles groaning from their vast, distended stomachs as yet another decadent pastry or five entered their mouths perhaps? 

“Hm... as part of a prerequisite marriage ritual, Imperial brides-to-be would be sat upon a bed of silk sheets and the softest pillows drakes could buy and fed a lavish feast by her bridesmaids until they could count at least four rolls on her neck," Hlavora whispered into the Spellwright’s ear, giving him a brief kiss on the cheek. “Four or more means they’ll have a peaceful, plentiful marriage."

Gaius squirmed, pressing his head into his shoulder. 

"If I may indulge in petty House rumors, House Hlaalu often adopts many of the traditional Imperial customs as their own, these included. I imagine you're aware of the Count Indarys of Cheydinhal? He and his wife are Hlaalu down to the blood in their veins. When they were instated as the ruling members of the city, they thrived in these Imperial traditions, throwing their balls and galas simply as an excuse to engorge themselves on the event's pleasantries, then retiring for the night to make love before anyone would notice. Count Indarys soon took interest in feeding his wife during their love-making hours, purring sweet nothings into her ears while her stomach grew taut from food. Every pound she gained was a celebration within their chambers - a celebration that came with more cake."

"That sounds… _delightful_ ," Gaius whimpered and shook. Every word she had spoken to him was an absolute farce, the very definition of absurdity, but she relished the sight of Gaius's squirms, his gasps and his moans coaxing her as she coaxed him. 

"It's a grotesque fetish of his, watching as his beloved Elven maiden's slim figure transforms into his fat, ashen whore-pig. Why, every night he runs his tongue between the folds of his lover's fat to arouse both himself and his love before he plunges beneath her weight like kwama sowing their seed into their engorged queen."

A small stream of saliva dripped from the end of his mouth. "By the Eight and One, I..."

"And after their firstborn, Count Indarys took to drinking the milk of his wife's overflowing teat, growing fat as she had - and he relished in it, for who wouldn't wish to bask in their lady-love's gifts? Every shirt of his possession now had a plump round belly poking out from underneath, the buttons on them slowly unfastening one by one as days passed. His ample rolls soon joined it as his gut perched well below his knees, a reminder of their unparalleled love."

Gaius shuddered, drawing out a moan. "You're… you're _really_ into this, aren't you? Such colorful imagery…"

Hlavora planted another kiss on his cheek. "Getting riled already, dear Spellwright? I haven't even finished my story yet. Or perhaps we could stop there, and I could leave you to your imagination."

"No, _please_ continue."

"The long-corpulent Lady Indarys soon had a special room dedicated to her and only her, for Count Indarys had overfed his wife to the point her mountains of ashen flesh burdened her to overencumberence and could barely roll her out of bed. Not that the Count nor his Lady cared - they'd constantly indulge in the Count spending hours at a time feeding her, caressing her massive rolls and licking stray drips of food off of her. He worships each and every single inch of her ever growing body, a hedonistic ritual that would make even Sanguine sheepish."

"Archmagister, _please_ ," Gaius’s voice cracked, moaning between breaths. He shivered furiously. "This… this is too much… please, keep going…" he begged, placing yet another sweetcake into his mouth. 

"D'aw, dear Spellwright, you've been getting so worked up with such sinful thoughts. You must simply be _famished_. You poor thing," Hlavora bit her lip, one hand trailing down to Gaius's sweat-laden love handles while the other held the half-chewed sweetcake up for him. "Surely a few more cakes ought to quell that jealous mind of yours."

"Mrph, it's your fault for putting them in my mind," he uttered with his mouth full, then swallowed his cake. The Archmagister's hand replenished another slice almost instantly. "Instilling your impossibly high standards of Imperials onto me. I'm not a Count, I'm not even a noble."

Hlavora’s other hand ventured about the Spellwright's moist, growing stomach, tracing his stretch marks with the tips of her fingers. He shivered in recoil to every warm touch from her. "Oh, I know," she mused. "But that's where you're wrong. I know you can be bigger. _I can_ _make_ you bigger. Perhaps even more than this Count and his wife," she slowly crept closer. "Perhaps _we_ could be bigger, Spellwright."

" _Archmagister_ !" Gaius squealed sharply, muffled by yet another mouthful of cake. He placed his hand on top of Hlavora's, his plump fingers interlocked between hers. “Gods, I… _please_."

"Such a greedy little Cyrodiil you are," she murmured into his ear. "Eating away at your sweets. You're so precious. How many meals does your kind have a day to keep your body so plump, my love? Five, six, seven even? What an awful patron I must be, to keep you malnourished for so long, so far away from home. I believe we should retire to my chambers, where you could sprawl across the bed, devouring your little desserts while my hands glide across that fat belly of yours. Perhaps we'd dress you in tight-fitting clothes so I could watch your flesh bulge and peek between buttons as you grow-"

"By the Eight and One, please, _take me,_ " he uttered, licking his lips in a futile attempt to keep what little he had of himself composed. “Take me. I am yours to do as you please, just _please._ ”

"Hm. I suppose we've bathed here for long enough," Hlavora pressed her lips against his cheek before she rose from where she bathed, the glistening water trailing down the curves of her soft body. She stretched her arms out, then her legs. "Come. We have much to do, my fat little Spellwright."

Gaius stared intently at his lover while she pulled herself out of the pool, mouth agape. When he came to, he jerked his body about, anchored to his spot. "I… I'm stuck, ma'am. A little help?"

"Oh. Right," Hlavora shook her head, channeling magicka from her fingertips to fortify the Spellwright’s strength to counteract the effect.

**Author's Note:**

> I drew some art for this chapter. I was going to add it to the end, but after doing some reading I found it's not a very cash money thing to do on Ao3, so I've included it here.  
> https://www.deviantart.com/pudgeparfait/art/The-Springs-of-Tel-Varo-848677006


End file.
